Chapter II: Act II: Scene: On the edge of Brendon Forest

_Time:_ three days later. A road runs along the hack of the stage front which it is separated by a fence and high hedge. In this hut somewhat to the right is a stile and also a gate. Round the trunk of a large tree to the left is a rough wooden seat. The stage is empty when the curtain rises. Fhen enter Mrs. De Mullin, Janet and Johnny. They approach stile from the left and come through gate. There isan exit on the right of the stage through the Forest.

JANET

I don’t think I’ll come any farther, mother.

MRS. DE MULLIN

You won’t come up to the house?

JANET

No, thanks _(rather grimly)_. I don’t want to see Mrs. Bulstead. And I’m sure Mrs. Bulstead doesn’t want to see me.

MRS. DE MULLIN

I wish Hester could have come.

JANET

Why couldn’t she?

MRS. DE MULLIN

She’s at the church putting up the decorations. It’s the Harvest Thanksgiving to-morrow.

JANET

_(laughing)_

Mr. Brown!

MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet, I told you you weren’t to laugh at Hester about Mr. Brown. It’s not kind.

JANET

_(lightly)_

It’s all right mother. Hester’s not here.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Still, I don’t like it, dear. It’s not quite...

JANET

_(soothing her)_

Not quite _nice_. I know, mother. Not the way really refined and ladylike young women talk. But I’m only quite a common person who sells hats. You can’t expect all these refinements from _me!_

[_Mrs. De Mullin sighs._

MRS. DE MULLIN

Are you going to turn back?

JANET

Not at once. I’ll wait for you here a little with Johnny in case they’re out. Why, they’ve put a seat here. [_She sits on the side farthest from the road._

MRS. DE MULLIN

Usen’t there to be one?

JANET

No. Nor a gate in my time. Only a stile.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Very likely, dear. I don’t remember. I don’t often come this way.

JANET

_(nods)_

I often used to come along it in the old days.

MRS. DE MULLIN

I dare say. Well, I must be getting on to my call or I shall be late. You’re sure you won’t come?

JANET

Quite, mother. Good-bye.

[_Mrs. De Mullin goes of through the forest._

JOHNNY

Where’s grandmother going, Mummie?

JANET

Up to the big house.

JOHNNY

What big house?

JANET

Brendon Park.

JOHNNY

Mayn’t I go up to the big house too?

JANET

No, dear. You’re to stay with mother.

JOHNNY

Who lives at the big house?

JANET

Nobody you know, dear.

JOHNNY

That’s why I asked, Mummie.

JANET

Well, don’t ask any more, sonny. Mother’s rather tired. Run away and play, there’s a good boy.

_[Kisses him._

JOHNNY

Very well, Mummie.

_[Johnny disappears into the wood. Janet falls into a brown study. Presently a footstep is heard coming along the roady but she seems to notice nothing. Then a young man climbs over the stile. He starts as he sees her and draws back, then advances eagerly, holding out his hand._

MONTY

Janet, is that _you!_

JANET

_(smiling)_

Yes, Monty.

MONTY

_(astonished)_

JANET! Here!

JANET

Yes, Monty.

MONTY

_(nodding over his shoulder)_

_Our_ stile, Janet!

JANET

Our stile.

MONTY

_(nods)_

The stile where you and I first met.

JANET

_(relapsing for a moment into something like sentiment)_

Yes. I thought I must see it again--for the sake of old times.

MONTY

How long ago it all seems!

JANET

_(matter of fact)_

It is a longish time, you know.

MONTY

_(thoughtfully)_

I believe that was the happiest month of my life, Janet.

JANET

Was it, Monty?

MONTY

Yes _(pause)_. I say, when did you come down? You don’t _live_ at home any longer, do you?

JANET

No. I only came down three days ago.

MONTY

By Jove it _is_ good to see you again. Why, it’s eight years since we used to be together, you and I.

JANET

Nearly nine.

MONTY

Yes... You’re not coming to live down here again, are you?

JANET

No; why?

MONTY

I thought perhaps...

JANET

_(cynically)_

Would you dislike it very much if I did, Monty?

MONTY

Of course not.

JANET

Confess. You _did_ feel it would be rather awkward?

MONTY

Well, of course...

JANET

However you can set your mind at rest. I’m not. [_His relief at this intelligence enables him to realize the pleasure he is getting from seeing her again._)

MONTY

I say, Janet, how well you’re looking! I believe you’re handsomer than ever.

JANET

(smiling)

Am I?

MONTY

You know you are.

[_Pause. He looks at her admiringly. She turns away with a little smile._

JANET

_(feeling that they are getting on to dangerous ground)_

Well, Monty. Where have you been these eight years?

MONTY

Abroad with my regiment. We’ve been ordered all over the place. I’ve been home on leave, of course. But not for the last three years. Not since father bought the Park. I’ve never been at Brendon since ... _(pause)_.

JANET

Since we were here? Don’t blush, Monty. _(He nods shamefacedly.)_ How did he come to buy the place?

MONTY

It was just a chance. He saw it advertised, came and looked at it and bought it. He’s no idea I was ever at Brendon before _(rather bitter laugh)_. None of them have. I have to pretend not to know my way about.

JANET

Why?

MONTY

It seems safer. _(Janet nods.)_ Sometimes I almost forget to keep it up. I’m such a duffer about things. But I’ve managed hitherto. And now, of course, it’s all right as I’ve been here three months. I may be supposed to know the beastly place by this time.

JANET

Beastly? You’re not very polite.

[_Monty laughs shamefacedly_.

MONTY

You got my note, didn’t you?

JANET

What note?... Oh, eight years ago, you mean? Yes.

MONTY

I left it with the woman at the lodgings. As you were coming over that afternoon, I thought it safer than sending a message. And of course I daren’t telegraph. _(Janet nods.)_ I was awfully sick at having to go away like that. All in a moment. Without even saying good-bye. But I had to.

JANET

Of course. Was your mother badly hurt?

MONTY

No. Only stunned. That was such rot. If people get chucked out of a carriage they must expect to get stunned. But of course they couldn’t know. The telegram just said “Mother hurt. Carriage accident. Come at once.” It got to me at the lodgings a couple of hours before you were coming. I had just time to chuck my things into a bag and catch the train. I wanted to come back after the mater was all right again. But I couldn’t very well, could I?

JANET

Why not?

MONTY

Well, the regiment was to sail in less than three weeks and the mater would have thought it rather rough if I’d gone away again. I’d been away six weeks as it was.

JANET

Oh yes. Of course.

MONTY

_(with half a sigh)_

To think if I hadn’t happened to be riding along that road and seen you at the stile and asked my way, you and I might never have met. What a chance life is!

JANET

_(nods)_

Just a chance _(pause)_.

MONTY

Why did you go away, Janet? You weren’t going the last time I saw you.

JANET

Wasn’t I?

MONTY

No. At least you said nothing about it.

JANET

I didn’t know I was going then. Not for certain.

MONTY

Why _did_ you go?

JANET

_(quietly)_ I had to, Monty.

MONTY

_(puzzled)_

You had to? _(Janet nods.)_But why?

Mother found out.

MONTY

About us?

JANET

Yes. And she told father.

MONTY

_(genuinely distressed)_ Oh, Janet! I’m so sorry.

JANET

_(shrugs)_

It couldn’t be helped,

MONTY

Does he know who it was?

JANET

Who _you_ were? No.

MONTY

You didn’t tell him?

JANET

MONTY! As if I should.

MONTY

I don’t know. Girls generally do.

JANET

_I_ didn’t.

MONTY

No. I suppose you wouldn’t. But you’re different from most girls. Do you know there was always something rather splendid about you, Janet?

JANET

(curtseys)

Thank you.

MONTY

I wonder he didn’t _make_ you tell.

JANET

He did try of course. That was why I ran away.

MONTY

I see. Where did you go to?

JANET

London.

MONTY

To London? All alone? (Janet nods) Why did you do that? And why didn’t you let me know?

JANET

_(shrugs)_

You were out of England by that time.

MONTY

But why London?

JANET

I had to go somewhere. And it seemed better to go where I shouldn’t be known. Besides it’s easier to be lost sight of in a crowd.

MONTY

But what did you do when you got there?

JANET

_(calmly)_

I got a place in a shop, Monty.

MONTY

A shop? You!

JANET

Yes, a hat-shop, in Regent Street. My dear Monty, don’t gape like that. Hat-shops are perfectly respectable places. Almost too respectable to judge by the fuss two of them made about employing _me_.

MONTY

What do you mean?

JANET

Well, when I applied to them for work they naturally asked if I had ever worked in a hat-shop before. And when I said “No” they naturally asked why I wanted to begin. In the innocence of my heart I told them. Whereupon they at once refused to employ me--not in the politest terms.

MONTY

Poor Janet. What beastly luck! Still...

[_Hesitates._

JANET

Yes, Monty?

MONTY

I mean naturally they couldn’t be expected...

_(flustered)_

At least I don’t mean that exactly.

Only... [_Stops._

JANET

My dear Monty, I quite understand what you mean. You needn’t trouble to be explicit. Naturally they couldn’t be expected to employ an abandoned person like me to trim hats. That was exactly their view.

MONTY

But I thought you said you _did_ get a place in a shop? Janet

Yes. But not at either of _those_ shops. They were _far_ too virtuous.

MONTY

How did you do it?

JANET

Told lies, Monty. I believe that’s how most women get employment.

MONTY

Told lies?

JANET

Yes. I invented a husband, recently deceased, bought several yards of crêpe and a wedding ring. This is the ring.

[_Takes off glove._

MONTY

Oh, Janet, how beastly for you!

[_Janet shrugs_.

JANET

_(laughing)_

Everything seems to be “Beastly” to you, Monty. Brendon and telling lies and lots of other things. Luckily I’m less superfine.

MONTY

Didn’t they find out?

JANET

No. That was why I decided to be a widow. It made inquiries more difficult.

MONTY

I should have thought it made them easier.

JANET

On the contrary. You can’t cross-question a widow about a recent bereavement. If you do she cries. I always used to look tearful directly my husband’s name was even mentioned. So they gave up mentioning it. Women are so boring when they will cry.

MONTY

They might have inquired from other people.

JANET

Why should they? Besides there was no one to inquire from. I called him Seagrave--and drowned him at sea. You can’t ask questions of the sharks.

MONTY

Oh, Janet, how can you joke about it?

JANET

I couldn’t--then. I wanted work-too badly. But I can now--with your kind permission, I mean.

MONTY

And you’ve been at the shop ever since?

JANET

Not _that_ shop. I was only there about six months --till baby was born, in fact...

MONTY

_(horrified)_

Janet, there was a baby!

JANET

Of course there was a baby.

MONTY

Oh, Janet! And you never wrote! Why didn’t you write?

JANET

I did think of it. But on the whole I thought I wouldn’t. It would have been no good.

MONTY

No good?

JANET

You were in India.

MONTY

I was in England.

JANET

Not then.

MONTY

You ought to have written at once--directly your mother found out.

JANET

One week after you sailed, Monty _(defiantly)_. Besides why should I write?

MONTY

Why? I could have married you, of course.

JANET

If I’d asked you, you mean? Thank you, my dear Monty.

MONTY

No, I don’t. Of course I should have married you. I _must_ have married you.

JANET

_(looking at him thoughtfully)_

I wonder if you would.

MONTY

Certainly I should. I should have been bound in honour.

JANET

I see. Then I’m glad I never wrote.

MONTY

You’re _glad?_ Now?

JANET

Yes. I’ve done some foolish things in my life, Monty, but none quite so foolish as that. To marry a schoolboy, not because he loves you or wants to marry you but because he thinks he’s “bound in honour.” No, thank you.

MONTY

I don’t mean that. You know I don’t, Janet. I loved you, of course. That goes without saying. I’d have married you like a shot before, only the Governor would have made such a fuss. The Governor was so awfully straitlaced about this sort of thing. When I was sent away from Eton he made the most ghastly fuss.

JANET

Were you sent away from Eton for “this sort of thing”?

MONTY

Yes--at least I don’t mean that either. But it was about a girl there. He was frightfully wild. He threatened to cut me off if I ever did such a thing again. Such rot! As if no one had ever been sent away from school before!

JANET

_(reflectively)_

I didn’t know you’d been sent away from Eton.

MONTY

Didn’t you? I suppose I didn’t like to tell you-for fear of what you’d think _(bitterly)_. I seem to have been afraid of everything in those days. .

JANET

Not _everything_, Monty.

MONTY

Oh, you know what I mean. I was awfully afraid of the Governor, I remember. I suppose all boys are if their parents rag them too much. But I would have married you, Janet, if I’d known. I would honestly.

JANET

_(blandly)_

What is the pay of a British subaltern, Monty?

MONTY

The Governor would have had to stump up, of course.

JANET

Poor Mr. Bulstead! He’d have _liked_ that, I suppose? And what about your poor unhappy colonel? And all the other little subalterns?

MONTY

_(obstinately)_

Still, you ought to have written.

JANET

_(quietly)_

_You_ never wrote.

MONTY

I couldn’t. You know that. You never would let me. That was why I couldn’t send that note to you to tell you I was going away. You said my letters would be noticed.

JANET

Yes, I forgot that. That’s the result of having a father who is what is called old-fashioned.

MONTY

What do you mean?

JANET

All letters to the Manor House are delivered locked in a bag. They always have been since the Flood, I believe, or at least since the invention of the postal service. And, of course, father won’t have it altered, So every morning there’s the ritual of unlocking this absurd bag. No one is allowed to do that but father--unless he is ill. Then mother has the privilege. And of course he. scrutinizes the outside of every letter and directly it’s opened asks who it’s from and what’s inside it. Your letters would have been noticed at once.

MONTY

How beastly!

JANET

The penalty of having nothing to do, Monty.

MONTY

I know. What a mess the whole thing is!

JANET

Just so. No. There was no way out of it except the hat-shop.

MONTY

_(remorsefully)_

It’s awfully rough on you, Janet.

JANET

Never mind. I dare say I wasn’t cut out for the wife of a subaltern, Monty; whereas I make excellent hats.

MONTY

_(savagely)_

You’re still making the d------d things?

JANET

Yes. Only at another shop. The Regent Street place had no room for me when I was well enough to go back to work. But the woman who kept it gave me a recommendation to a friend who was starting in Hanover Street. A most superior quarter for a hatshop, Monty. In fact _the_ superior quarter. Claude et Cie was the name.

(Monty _(rather shocked)_

A _French_ shop?

JANET

No more French than you are, Monty. It was kept by a Miss Hicks, one of the most thoroughly British people you can possibly imagine. But we called ourselves Claude et Cie in order to be able to charge people more for their hats. You can always charge fashionable women more for their clothes if you pretend to be French. It’s one of the imbecilities of commerce. So poor dear Miss Hicks became Madame Claude and none of our hats cost less than seven guineas.

MONTY

Do people buy hats at such a price?

JANET

Oh yes. Everybody in Society bought them. Claude et Cie was quite the rage that Season. Nobody who was anybody went anywhere else.

MONTY

She must have made a great deal of money.

JANET

On the contrary. She made nothing at all and narrowly escaped bankruptcy.

MONTY

But I don’t understand. If her hats were so dear and everybody bought them?

JANET

Everybody _bought_ them but nobody _paid_ for them. In the highest social circles I believe people never do pay for anything--certainly not for their clothes. At least, nobody paid Miss Hicks, and at the end of six months she was owed £1,200 and hadn’t a penny to pay her rent.

MONTY

Why didn’t she _make_ them pay.

JANET

She did dun them, of course, but they only ordered more hats to keep her quiet which didn’t help Miss Hicks much. And when she went on dunning them they said they should withdraw their custom. In fact, she was in a dilemma. If she let the bills run on she couldn’t pay her rent. And if she asked her customers to pay their bills they ceased to be customers.

MONTY

How beastly!

JANET

Not again, Monty!

MONTY

What _did_ she do?

JANET

She didn’t do anything. She was too depressed. She used to sit in the back room where the hats were trimmed and weep over the materials, regardless of expense. Finally things came to a crisis. The landlord threatened to distrain for his rent. But just as it looked as if it was all over with Claude et Cie a capitalist came to the rescue. _I_ was the capitalist.

MONTY

You?

JANET

Yes. I’d an old Aunt once who was fond of me and left me a legacy when I was seventeen. Four hundred pounds.

MONTY

That wouldn’t go very far.

JANET

Four hundred pounds goes a longish way towards setting up a shop. Besides, it was nearly five hundred by that time. My shares had gone up. Well, I and my five hundred pounds came to the rescue. I paid the rent and the most clamorous of the creditors, and Miss Hicks and I became partners.

MONTY

But what was the good of that if the business was worth nothing?

JANET

It was worth several hundred pounds to any one, who had the pluck to sue half the British aristocracy. I sued them. It was tremendous fun. They were simply furious. They talked as if they’d never been sued before! As for Miss Hicks she wept more than ever and said I’d ruined the business.

MONTY

Hadn’t you?

JANET

That business. Yes. But with the £1,200--or as much of it as we could recover--we started a new one. A cheap hat-shop. Relatively cheap that is-for Hanover Street. We charged two guineas a hat instead of seven, 100 per cent, profit instead of... You can work it out for yourself. But then our terms were strictly cash, so we made no bad debts. That was my idea.

MONTY

But you said nobody ever paid for their hats.

JANET

Not in the highest social circles. But we drew our customers from the middle classes who live in South Kensington and Bayswater, and are not too haughty to pay for a hat if they see a cheap one.

MONTY

But wasn’t it a frightful risk?

JANET

_(cheerfully)_

It was a risk, of course. But everything in life is a risk, isn’t it? And it succeeded, as I felt sure it would. We’re quite a prosperous concern nowadays, and I go over to Paris four times a year to see the latest fashions. That, my dear Monty, is the history of Claude et Cie.

[_Pause._

MONTY

And you’ve never married, Janet?

JANET

No.

MONTY {hesitates)

Is it because...?

JANET

Because?

MONTY

Because you still care for me?

JANET

Monty, don’t be vain.

MONTY

_(repelled)_

I didn’t mean it like that. Janet, don’t laugh. Of course, I’m glad if you don’t care any more. At least, I suppose I ought to be glad. It would have been dreadful if you had gone on caring all these years and I not known. But did you?

JANET

No, Monty, I didn’t. You may set your mind at rest.

MONTY

You’re sure?

JANET

Quite. I had too many other things to think of.

MONTY

Do you mean that beastly shop?

JANET

_(quietly)_

I meant my baby.

MONTY

_Our_ baby. Is it alive?

JANET

Of course. What do you mean, Monty?

MONTY

I thought, as you didn’t say... _(thoughtfully)_ Poor little beast! _(Janet makes gesture of protest.)_ Well, it’s rough luck on the little beggar, isn’t it? What’s become of him, Janet?

JANET

What’s _become_ of him! My dear Monty, what should have become of him? He’s quite alive as I said and particularly thriving.

MONTY

Do you mean he’s _living_ with you!.. But, of course, I forgot, you’re supposed to be married.

JANET

_(correcting him)_

A widow, Monty. An inconsolable widow!

MONTY

Where is he? In London?

JANET

No. As a matter of fact he’s probably not fifty yards away. Over there.

[_Points towards the wood._

MONTY

_(jumping up)_

Janet! _(nervously looking round)_.

JANET

_(rallying him)_

Frightened, Monty?

MONTY

Of course not _(shamefacedly)_

JANET

Just a little?

MONTY

_(regaining courage)_

Janet, let me see him.

JANET

_(amused)_

Would you like to?

MONTY

Of course I should. He’s _my_ baby as well as yours if it comes to that. Do call him, Janet.

JANET

All right, _(calls)_ Johnny! _(pause)_ John... ny! _[‘To Monty)_ You mustn’t tell him, you know.

MONTY

Of course not.

JOHNNY

_(off r.)_

Yes, Mummie.

JANET

Come here for a minute. Mother wants to speak to you.

JOHNNY

_(off)_

Very well, Mummie. _(Enters r.)_ Oh, Mummie, I’ve found such a lot of rabbits. You must come and see them. _(Seeing Monty for the first time, stares at him.)_ Oh!

MONTY

Come here, youngster. Come and let me look at you. _(Johnny goes to him slowly. Monty, grasping both hands, draws him to him, looking at him long and keenly.)_ He’s like you, Janet.

JANET

Is he?

MONTY

Yes. He has your eyes. So your name’s Johnny, young man?

JOHNNY

Yes.

MONTY

Well, Johnny, will you give me a kiss? _(Monty leans forward. He does so.)_ That’s right.

JOHNNY

And now, Mummie, come and look at my rabbits.

JANET

Not yet, dear. Mother’s busy just now.

JOHNNY

May I go back to them then?

JANET

Yes.

MONTY

Suppose I won’t let you go?

JOHNNY

I’ll make you--and so will Mummie.

MONTY

Plucky little chap. Off with you.

[_Kisses him again, then releases his hands. Johnny trots off r. again. Monty follows him with his eyes. Pause._

JANET

Well, Monty, what do you think of him?

MONTY

_(enthusiastic)_

I think he’s _splendid_.

JANET

_(proudly)_

Isn’t he? And such a sturdy little boy. He weighed ten pounds before he was a month old.

I say, Janet.

MONTY

_(shyly)_

JANET

Yes?

MONTY

_(hesitates)_

You’ll let me kiss you once more, won’t you? For the last time?... _(she hesitates)_. You don’t mind?

JANET

_(heartily)_ .

Of course not, Monty. You’re not _married_ yet, you know.

MONTY

JANET! My dear, dear Janet!

[_Seizes her and kisses her fiercely._

JANET

_(releasing herself gently)_

That’s enough, Monty.

MONTY

_(remorsefully)_

I’m afraid I behaved like an awful brute to you, Janet.

JANET

_(lightly)_

Oh no.

MONTY

Yes, I did. I ought to have married you. I ought to marry you still. On account of the boy.

JANET

_(quite matter of fact)_

Oh well, you can’t do that now in any case, can you --as you’re engaged to Bertha Aldenham.

MONTY

You’ve heard about that? Who told you?

JANET

A worthy lady called Miss Deanes.

MONTY

I know. A regular sickener.

JANET

My dear Monty!

MONTY

Sorry.

JANET

She brought the good news. The very day I arrived as it happened. We’ve hardly talked of anything else at the Manor House since--except father’s illness, of course.

MONTY

Why?

JANET

What else is there to talk about--in Brendon?

MONTY

That’s true. Isn’t it... _(stops himself, looks at watch. Whistles.)_ Whew! [_Rises._

JANET

What is it, Monty?

MONTY

I say, Janet, I wonder if you’d mind going now?

Why?

JANET

[_She rises too._

MONTY

_(awkwardly)_

Well, the fact is I’m expecting some one here directly. I...

JANET

Bertha?

MONTY

Yes. I was to meet her here at the stile at six.

JANET

_Our_ stile, Monty.

MONTY

Yes,... You don’t mind, do you--about my asking you to go, I mean?

JANET

_(sitting again)_

Not in the least.

MONTY

But you’re not going?

JANET

Why should I go?

MONTY

Oh, well, I thought-----

JANET

That it wouldn’t be quite suitable for us to meet?

MONTY

I didn’t mean that, of course. But I thought you mightn’t like--I mean it might be painful...

[_Sits again._

JANET

For me to see her? On the contrary, I’m dying to see her.

MONTY

Janet, sometimes I think you’re not quite human.

JANET

My dear boy, I’m extremely human--and therefore curious _(pause)_. What’s she like, Monty? Now, I mean. She promised to be pretty.

MONTY

She is pretty, I suppose _(pause)_. I wonder if Bertha and I will ever have a son like Johnny!

JANET

Let’s hope so, Monty. For Bertha’s sake.

MONTY

Isn’t that some one coming? _(pause, listens)_, I expect it’s she _(rising hastily and advancing towards stile)_. Is that you, Bertha?

BERTHA

_(at stile)_

Oh! There you are. Yes. Isn’t it hot? _(entering by gate which he opens for her)_. Am I punctual? _(with a cry)_ Janet! When did you come home?

[_Goes to her eagerly._

JANET

_(shaking hands)_

Only three days ago.

[_Bertha kisses her._

BERTHA

_Only_ three days! And you’ve never been up to see us.

JANET

I know. But with father ill

BERTHA

Of course. I understand. I was only joking. How is Mr. De Mullin?

JANET

Much better. Not well yet, of course. But he gets stronger every day.

BERTHA

I’m so glad. I say, Janet, do you remember when you used to teach us French?

JANET

Yes.

BERTHA

I was awfully troublesome, I remember.

MONTY

I expect you were an awful duffer at it too, Bertha.

BERTHA

What cheek!

MONTY

Wasn’t she, Ja--_(pulls himself up)_ Miss De Mullin?

[_Janet smiles nervously._

Oh, yes.

BERTHA

I didn’t know you’d met Janet, Monty? Why didn’t you tell us?

[_Quite unsuspicious of anything wrong. Merely curious._

MONTY

It was some time ago.

BERTHA

_(surprised)_

Not at Brendon? You’ve never been at Brendon before.

MONTY

No. It was at Weymouth. I was there getting over typhoid years ago.

BERTHA

I remember, you told me. Eight or nine years ago, wasn’t it?

MONTY

Yes _(looks at watch)_. I say, Bertha, we must be off if we’re not to be late.

BERTHA

Give me two minutes to rest. The weather’s simply stifling.

MONTY

Rot! It’s quite cool.

BERTHA

Then you must have been sitting here a long time. I’ve been walking along a dusty road and I’m not going to start yet. Besides I want to know all about you two meeting. Were you staying at Weymouth, Janet?

JANET

Oh no. I just bicycled over. Mr. Bulstead ran into me.

MONTY

I like that. She ran into _me_.

JANET

Anyhow my front wheel buckled and he had to help me to put it right.

BERTHA

What gallantry!

MONTY

It was. The beastly thing took about half an hour. By the time it was over we seemed to have known each other for a lifetime _(looks at watch)_. Two minutes is up. Time to start, Bertha.

BERTHA

It isn’t.

MONTY

It is. You’ll be late for dressing to a certainty if you don’t go.

BERTHA

I like that. I can dress as quickly as you if it comes to that.

MONTY

Oh no. I can dress in ten minutes. I’ll give you a quarter of an hour’s start and be down in the drawing-room five minutes before you’re ready. Is it a bet?

BERTHA

Done. In sixpences. _(To Janet)_ I’m staying at the Park for a few days longer, Janet. Come up and see me, won’t you?

JANET

_(uncomfortably)_

I’m afraid I can’t promise. On account of father.

BERTHA

Well, after I’ve gone home then. Mother will want to see you. And so will Helen. And now I suppose I really must go. Come along, Monty.

MONTY

Not I. I needn’t go for a quarter of an hour. You have a quarter of an hour’s start.

BERTHA

All right. Good-bye, Janet _(kisses her)_. You won’t forget about coming as soon as you can? I go back home on Thursday.

JANET

I won’t forget. Good-bye. [_Bertha goes off through the wood. Janet watches her go and there is a pause._) Yes, she _is_ pretty, Monty. Very pretty.

MONTY

_(nods)_

You don’t mind?

JANET

Her being pretty? Of course not. It’s a justification.

MONTY

A justification?

JANET

For forgetting me

MONTY

_(impulsively, seizing her hands)_

Janet, I’ve never done that. You know I haven’t.

JANET

_(drawing back)_

No, Monty. Not again. [_Pause._

MONTY

I say, I as nearly as possible called you Janet right out before Bertha.

JANET

So I saw. You _did_ call me Miss De Mullin, by the way,--which wasn’t very clever of you.

MONTY

Did I? What an ass I am! But I don’t suppose she noticed.

JANET

I dare say not. _(A shrill cry comes from the wood on the right. Then silence. Janet starts up.)_ What was that?

MONTY

I don’t know.

JANET

It sounded like a child. Where did it come from? Over here, didn’t it?

MONTY

I think so.

JANET

_(alarmed)_

I hope Johnny... I must go and see... _(A moment later Johnny runs in, sobbing, followed by Mrs. De Mullin and Bertha.)_ Johnny! What is it, my sweetheart?

[_Runs to him._

JOHNNY

Oh, Mummie, Mummie, I was running after the rabbits and I tripped over some nettles and they stung me.

MRS. DE MULLIN

He put his foot in a hole, Janet. He fell just as I met Bertha _(shakes hands with Monty)_. How do you do Mr. Bulstead.

JANET

There! There! my pet. Did it hurt very much? Mother shall kiss it and make it well.

JOHNNY (sobs)

Oh-h-h--- [_Does so._

BERTHA

Is he your son?

JANET

Yes. Don’t cry any more, dear. Brave boys don’t cry, you know.

JOHNNY

_(gasps)_

It h-hurts so.

JANET

I know. But crying won’t make it hurt less, will it? So you must dry your eyes. Come now.

JOHNNY

All right, Mummie.

[_Stills sobs gradually._

BERTHA

_(astonished)_

I’d no idea you were married, Janet.

JANET

Hadn’t you?

BERTHA

No. When was it?

JANET

Eight years ago. Nearly nine. To Mr. Seagrave.

BERTHA

Is he down here with you?

JANET

No. My husband died soon after our marriage.

BERTHA

Poor Janet. I’m so sorry _(pause)_. And it was before your marriage that Monty met you?

JANET

How do you know?

BERTHA

_(quite unsuspicious)_

He called you Miss De Mullin.

JANET

Of course.

MRS. DE MULLIN

_(pricking up her ears suspiciously at this.)_

I didn’t know you had met my daughter before, Mr. Bulstead.

BERTHA

Nor did I. They met down at Weymouth quite by chance eight or nine years ago.

MRS. DE MULLIN

_(gravely)_

Indeed?

MONTY

Yes... I say, Bertha, excuse my interrupting you. but we really must be off now if we’re not to be late.

BERTHA

You want to win that bet!

MONTY

The bet’s off. There’s no time to give you any start. I must come too or I shan’t be in time myself and the Governor will simply curse.

BERTHA

Is Mr. Bulstead _very_ fierce if people are late for dinner?

MONTY

Simply beastly.

BERTHA

How very unpleasant! I wonder if I’m wise to marry into the family?

[_Shaking hands merrily with Mrs. DeMullin and Janet. Then goes off r., laughing merrily._

MONTY

_(sardonically)_

I wonder _(shakes hands with Mrs. De Mullin and Janet)_. Will you give me a kiss, old chap?

[_To Johnny._

JOHNNY

That’s three times.

[_Monty nods._

[_Monty follows Bertha off r. A long pause. Mrs. De Mullin looks fixedly at Janet. Janet looks at the ground._

MRS. DE MULLIN

_(slowly)_

Mr. Montague Bulstead seems unusually fond of children, Janet.

JANET

Does he, mother?

[_She does not look up._

MRS. DE MULLIN

Yes. Johnny is rather old to be kissed by strangers.

JANET

I supposed he kissed him because he was brave about being stung.

MRS. DE MULLIN

He seems to have kissed him before. Twice.

JANET

I dare say. I didn’t notice.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Johnny did, apparently.

JANET

Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, does it? _(Looks up defiantly. Meets her mother’s eyes full on her)_ Why do you look at me like that, mother?

MRS. DE MULLIN

Send Johnny away for a little, Janet. I want to speak to you.

JANET

I’d rather not, mother. He might hurt himself again.

MRS. DE MULLIN

He will be quite safe. Run away, Johnny. But don’t go too far.

JOHNNY

All right, grandmother.

[_Johnny trots off into the wood. Pause._

JANET

_(defiantly)_

Well, mother?

MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet, why did you never tell us you had met Mr. Bulstead before?

JANET

When?

MRS. DE MULLIN

Any time during the last three days, when we were speaking of his engagement.

JANET

I’d forgotten all about it, mother.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Indeed? And why didn’t you tell us eight years ago, when you met him at Weymouth, when you were still “Miss De Mullin”?

JANET

Mother, don’t badger me like this. If you want to ask me anything ask it.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet, Mr. Bulstead is Johnny’s father.

JANET

Mr. Bulstead? Absurd!

MRS. DE MULLIN

Then why did you pretend not to have met him? Why did you conceal the fact of your meeting him from us eight years ago? And why has he concealed the fact from Bertha and the Bulsteads?

[_Pause._

JANET

_(resignedly)_

Very well, mother, if you’re determined to know you must know. Yes, he’s Johnny’s father.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Oh, Janet!

JANET

_(irritably)_

Well, mother, if you didn’t want to know you shouldn’t have asked. I told you not to worry me. _(Mrs. De Mullin begins to cry. Remorsefully,)_

There, there, mother! Don’t cry. I’m sorry I was cross to you. Don’t let’s talk any more about it.

MRS. DE MULLIN

_(snuffling)_

No, Janet, we _must_ talk about it. There’s no use trying to hide things any longer. You must tell me the truth.

JANET

Much better not, mother. It won’t give you any pleasure to hear.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Still, I’d rather know, Janet.

JANET

_(shrugs)_

As you please. What do you want me to tell you? Mrs. De Mullin

Everything. How did you come to be at Weymouth? I don’t remember your staying at Weymouth eight years ago.

JANET

I wasn’t staying there. But Monty was.

MRS. DE MULLIN

_(shocked)_

Monty!

JANET

Mr. Bulstead. Oh, what _does_ it matter now?

He’d had typhoid and was there to recruit. I’d ridden over on my bicycle...

MRS. DE MULLIN

_(lamentably)_

Bicycle! I always said it was all through bicycling.

JANET

_(another shrug)_

He ran into me, or I ran into him. I was rather shaken, and he asked me to come in and rest. It happened close to the house where he was lodging.

MRS. DE MULLIN

You went in! To his lodgings! A man you had never met before!

JANET

My dear mother, when you have been thrown off a bicycle, ordinary conventions cease to apply. Besides, as a matter of fact, we _had_ met once before--the day before, in fact.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Where?

JANET

Here. By this very stile. Monty was riding past and he asked me the way to somewhere--Thoresby, I think. I was standing by the stile. Next day I happened to ride into Weymouth. We collided--and the rest you know.

MRS. DE MULLIN

_(sternly)_

Were those the _only_ times you met him, Janet?

JANET

Of course not, mother. After the Weymouth collision we met constantly, nearly every day. We used to meet out riding and I had tea with him lots of times in his rooms.

MRS. DE MULLIN

_(horrified)_

How long did this go on?

JANET

More than a month--till he left Weymouth, in fact. Now, mother, is that all you want to know? Because if so we’ll drop the subject.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Oh, Janet, what _will_ your father say!

JANET

Father? He won’t know.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Won’t know? But I must tell him.

JANET

Good heavens, why?

MRS. DE MULLIN

In order that Mr. Bulstead may marry you, of course. Your father will insist on his marrying you.

JANET

If father attempts to do that, mother, I shall deny the whole story. And Monty will back me up.

MRS. DE MULLIN

He would never be so wicked.

JANET

He would have to if I ask him. It’s the least he could do.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Johnny is there to prove it.

JANET

There’s nothing to prove that Monty is Johnny’s father. Nothing whatever.

MRS. DE MULLIN

But, Janet, _why_ won’t you marry him?

JANET

_(impatiently)_

My dear mother, because I don’t want to, of course.

MRS. DE MULLIN

You don’t _want_ to?

JANET

Great heavens, no. Why should I? Monty Bulstead isn’t at all the sort of man I should care to _marry_.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Why not?

JANET

Frankly, mother, because he’s not interesting enough. Monty’s a very nice fellow and I like him very much, but I don’t want to pass the remainder of my life with him. If I’m to marry anybody--and I don’t think I shall--it will have to be a rather more remarkable person than Monty Bulstead.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Yet you _did_ love him, Janet. You must have loved him... then.

JANET

Oh yes. Then. But that was ages ago, before Johnny was born. After that I didn’t care for anybody any more except Johnny.

MRS. DE MULLIN

But, Janet, you _ought_ to marry him, for Johnny’s sake.

JANET

Too late, mother. That should have been eight years ago to be any use.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Better too late than not at all.

JANET

Better not at all than too late.

MRS. DE MULLIN

He seduced you, Janet.

JANET

_(thoughtfully)_

Did he? I was twenty-seven. He was twenty. If either of us was to blame, wasn’t it I?

MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet, you’re trying to screen him.

JANET

Dearest mother, you talk like a sentimental novel.

MRS. DE MULLIN

_(indignantly)_

And he’s to be allowed to marry Bertha Aldenham, just as if this had never happened?

JANET

Why not? It’s not _her_ fault, is it? And girls find it difficult enough to get married nowadays, goodness knows.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Still, she _ought_ to be told, Janet. I think _she must_ be told.

JANET

My dear mother, if _she_ knows everybody will know, and the scandal will make all the dead and gone De Mullins turn in their graves. As for father it would simply kill him out of hand.

MRS. DE MULLIN

_(sadly)_

Poor father.

JANET

_(briskly)_

So, on the whole, I don’t think we’ll tell any one. Come, mother, it’s time we started. _(More kindly)_ Poor mother. Don’t fret. Perhaps Hester will have some news to cheer you when we get home.

MRS. DE MULLIN

Hester?

JANET

_(rallying her)_

An engagement, mother. Hester’s engagement. Hester and Mr. Brown have been decorating the church for the last _four_ hours. What an opportunity for a declaration! Or don’t people propose in church?

MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet, how can you laugh after what has happened?

JANET

Laugh? Of course I can laugh. What else is there to do? Let’s go home. Johnny! Johnny! _(calls)_.

[_By this time twilight is falling. A full moon has begun to risey lighting uf the scene._

JOHNNY

_(off r.)_

Yes, Mummie.

JANET

Come along, dear. Mother’s going to start. Johnny _(off r.)_

All right, Mummie. _(entering r.)_ Oh, Mummie, you’ve not seen my rabbits yet!

JANET

No. It’s too dark to-night. Mother must come and see them another time.

JOHNNY

You won’t forget, will you, Mummie? _(looking at Mrs. De Mullin)_ Grandmother, you’ve been crying. Is that because I stung myself with a nettle?

JANET

Little egoist! Of course it is. Give your grandmother a kiss and we’ll all walk home together.

[_Mrs. De Mullin stoop and kisses Johnny passionately. They go off through the gate and the curtain falls._